


♦ Soleil

by EvelynLawliet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Considering Alcoholism, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynLawliet/pseuds/EvelynLawliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And in the sky filled with a flock of black birds,<br/>You sparkle a bright gold; you are<br/>Soleil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	♦ Soleil

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, my beautiful readers! c: I have just watched season 9's finale, so I had to write something to deal with my feels, and here is the result. Cas's story is somewhat based on my own, except that I still haven't found my 'soleil'. XD The title and the summary of this work come from the song 'Soleil' by Vocaloid. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this! :D

Castiel couldn’t take it anymore. All of those people, screaming at him, telling him what to do, what was expected of him…It was just too much. If he had to stay home and listen to one more complaining coming from either of his parents, or his sister yelling her lungs out, or his best friend demanding his attention, he didn’t know what would happen. He felt like exploding, and, for as much as he tried, he simply couldn’t find a way out.

Many things had he tested already; using food as an escape route, or listening to his favorite songs at the highest volume his headphone would allow. But it never helped. Only one thing had been more or less useful, and it had been the burning of the alcohol running down his throat. And yet, being an alcoholic wasn’t something he wanted. After all, he knew his family loved him, even if they pressured him to no ends.

At the very moment, he was sitting with his youngest sister, Anna, watching Frozen. It was a movie she had seen way too many times, and he simply couldn’t stand hearing ‘Let it Go’ once again. But he did. He stayed there, carefully sat on the far left corner of the couch, thanking whatever Gods there were that his mother wasn’t yelling at him, or something worse.

Of course, his peace of mind didn’t last long.

During some part of the movie that Castiel wasn’t really paying attention to, Anna started crying at the top of her lungs for no apparent reason. They had a dog, Spike, and he almost instantaneously began barking at her, as if asking what was wrong in his dog way. All of this could once have been only a stressful scene, one he would be able to brush off. Not that day, though. Not when his head was so full, and his chest felt so tight. Why did it feel so _tight_?

“Castiel!” came his mother’s voice from the kitchen. He snapped from his inner desperation, startled with the tone she had used. “Why in the God living Hell is Anna crying? Aren’t you able to watch your sister for a fucking minute? You sit around all day, and don’t even study!” She was standing a few feet from him now, and he could feel his eyes burning. “What do you think, that your father and I are going to maintain you for your whole life? You’re not a princess, Castiel, I’m sorry to break it to you. So stop being a useless piece of shit and go do something productive for once in your goddamned life!”

The scene had happened so many times already that Castiel just looked at his sister and knelt by her, his expression emotionless. Inside he felt like a mess, his brain trying to catch up on what was happening, but it seemed too impossible. He didn’t even know how he managed to reach his hands up and embrace his sister, telling her that it was okay, it would be okay. If at least she believed that, then he guessed maybe someone had hope.

It didn’t help, though, and Anna only cried harder. Their mother showed in the living room, taking her five-year-old daughter towards the master bedroom and slamming the door behind them. The sound felt like one of Castiel’s heartbeats; one that was way too enormous for his small body to handle.

He wished he had some kind of way out of it. Before everything became too much, he had thought about taking a trip. Perhaps getting a few days for himself would help him. It wasn’t like he had somewhere to be, since he had dropped college. The burden had been too much for him that year, and every time he entered the building he felt like dying. Too many people, too many subjects, too much noise.

Turned out, though, he didn’t have the money to pay for even two days out of the country. He was tired of his life, and he knew that going somewhere too close wouldn’t change anything, so he had in his mind somewhere like France or even England. More than once he had escaped during the day to go visit travel agencies, but none offered something he could afford.

So he was stuck, inside his house, and now inside his own mind. It was maddening, and too many times he thought he wouldn’t be able to bear it. If he were to be honest with himself, he would admit to look at his mother’s anti-depression drugs longingly. He wasn’t brave enough to try taking his life away with a knife, or even trying to drown. No, he had to choose something that wouldn’t be painful; something like falling asleep.

Before he could do something stupid, Castiel gathered himself and ran towards his own bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. His bed felt too far away, the floor seemed so comfortable…Shaking his head, he reached for his phone. Perhaps, if he talked to one of his friends, they would be able to help him.

There was a new message from his best friend, Balthazar, and he was quick to read it. ‘ _Cas, come on, stop ignoring me! I know you’re there, why won’t you talk to me? You know what? You want to ignore me that’s your choice, but don’t forget about all those times that_ I _was the only one out there who helped you, got it?_ ’

It was true. Balthazar had helped him one too many times to count, and Castiel would never do something like ignoring him. The thing was, though, that he wasn’t feeling like himself, and he didn’t want to read about how Balthazar had met a new girl who was so hot he couldn’t wait to have sex with her, or how the new friend he had met at college was ‘so cool, you won’t believe it!’

Instead of answering, the blue-eyed threw his phone to the end of his bed and hauled his knees to his chest. The house was quite, immensely so, and it felt strange. Where there were screams, and barking, and crying, now there was silence. All he had asked for was a minute of peace, and now that he had it he felt like disappearing. But then again, that wasn’t peace, was it? No, that was more like the calming before the battle; battle that came not even ten minutes later.

Fortunately, he wasn’t a part of it, but he could hear the sound effects. It was obviously his mother, yelling at Anna for what he guessed to be the medicine his sister refused to take. Doors were slammed, drawers were shut forcefully, and there was always the constant voice of his mother, spreading through the walls. None of it was directed at him, but it just felt like one more burden he would have to carry around.

And he couldn’t take it. It was too much. His breathing grew ragged, drawing air to his lungs felt almost impossible with the tightness in his chest, and it took no more than five seconds for the tears to start flowing freely. Why, why did he have to take it all on himself? Why did everybody decide to use him as an escape? Why couldn’t anybody see that _he simply couldn’t take it_?!

In a moment of insanity, he stood from his bed. The yelling had stopped and he dared opening his door, peeking outside. There was no one, and the master bedroom’s door was yet closed, quite possibly with his mother and Anna inside. Carefully, he slipped his sneakers on and, with trembling limbs, went to the kitchen and snapped his mother’s medications.

Trying to hold it against his chest so that nobody would see it, Castiel walked to his front door, where he gently turned the knob, looking behind to see if he hadn’t drawled attention to himself. Thankfully, there was no movement, and he stepped outside, closing the door and biting his bottom lip.

What now? He knew he would have to drink the medication, but how to deal with the fear of taking your life wasn’t something they taught at school. Maybe, if he had a drink it would be easier. The eighteen-year-old patted his pocket and gave a sigh of relief when he felt the outline of his ID.

With heavy feet, he walked towards the nearest store he could remember in his fogged mind and entered it. It was cold inside, and so he rubbed at his arms, making a beeline towards the refrigerator. There were beers, wines, champagnes…But he needed something stronger, and so he reached for the whiskey and swallowed the lump on his throat.

Just as he was closing the refrigerator’s door, he saw one of the last people he wished to see in that very specific situation. Dean Winchester. The boy had gone to school with him, and he was basically Castiel’s nightmare. And also the one with who he was in love pretty much since he entered high school.

Dean was alone, his trademark leather jacket covering the arms Castiel had seen throw a ball across the entire courtyard. It was a shame, really, and the blue-eyed boy couldn’t help but allowing his eyes to trail lower, down to Dean’s hands, which, with a sigh, Castiel realized were hiding in his pockets.

If he was asked later how he snapped out of his daze before Dean saw him, Castiel wouldn’t know how to answer. He just knew that one moment he was staring at Dean like the other teenager was an anchor he desperately wanted to grab, and the other he was jogging towards the register, because, what would he do if Dean saw him?

Sure, the green-eyed god would probably not recognize him and everything would be alright anyway, but he didn’t want to risk it. So he shook his leg as the cashier asked for his ID and reached his back pocket, almost shoving it to the woman. She gave him a suspiciously look, but accepted his money and then he was free.

Stepping out of the store felt freeing, and Castiel breathed in the night’s air, only now realizing that it was colder than inside. He must have missed it because of his inner fight with whether he should really do it or not. The medication felt heavy again in his hand, and Castiel decided that, before he would take it, he had to say goodbye to one last place.

When he reached the playground, it was just as he remembered. He remembered his mother taking him there when he was little, and his father snapping pictures of them. Those were days of happiness, and Castiel just had to relive them once more, even if it only served for the pain in his chest to increase.

Slowly, he walked to the swing and sat down on it. It was midnight already and he knew no one would go there, so that was literally the best place to do it; to have his first and last memory in the same place. Feeling more confident even with the tears running down his cheeks, Castiel reached for the whiskey and opened it.

His fingers were still shaking, and so the process took a while longer than he had anticipated, but then the bottle was open and the only thing left for him to do was drink it. Licking at his lips, he took a dram of the whiskey. He felt more centered then, and, with his breathing increasing, Castiel took the lid off of the bottle of medication. It was a liquid one, and he could take it in one go if he put his mind to it.

For a few moments, he just stared at the two bottles in his hand. One promised peace, the other a life of making people he loved miserable and, coming to think of it, the choice was pretty easy to make. Castiel put the bottle of whiskey down and held the medication with both of his hands, nodding at himself. He had nothing to lose, and prolonging the inevitable was foolish. In a moment of courage – or complete fear –, he took the bottle to his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cas!” It was Dean’s voice. Castiel opened his eyes, afraid of what was right in front of his. In the blink of an eye, Dean was slapping the bottle away from his hands and taking them in his own. The movement was so tender that Castiel simply let go. His walls broke down and, before he could understand what was happening, he was kneeling in the dirt, Dean’s arms around his shaking body and his lips pressed to his hair.

Castiel allowed himself to cry everything out of his system, his face buried into Dean’s chest as he listened to the Winchester teen’s soothing promises. “It’s okay now, Cas, I’ve got you. Don’t worry, we’re gonna work through this, it’ll be okay. I’m with you, I’ll take care of you,” he kept on rambling, and Castiel never felt safer.

-~-

It took Castiel about twenty minutes to recompose himself enough to feel conscious again. He had no idea of where he was, but he felt good. Opening his eyes, he saw and smelled leather, and it took him more than it should to realize that Dean was still with him. The realization caught him by surprise and he pulled away from the blonde’s chest to see himself now sitting in his lap like a child.

With the words caught in his throat, Castiel searched for Dean’s eyes. In his moment of desperation, he hadn’t thought about it, but now that he was more or less lucid, he couldn’t help wondering how Dean had found him, or way he cared enough to hold him through his breakdown. It wasn’t something people just did for one another, and suddenly Castiel was suspicious of what was happening.

“D-Dean?” he called, making the green-eyed smile down at him. The older boy brushed a lock of the younger’s hair out of his forehead, and Castiel blinked at the movement. It was just as tender as when Dean took his hands a few minutes ago, what made Castiel’s chest swell. Again it felt too little to hold everything he was feeling, but now it was a good sensation.

As he ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair, Dean watched him. “Right here, Cas,” he assured him, and Castiel couldn’t deny that he melt a little under the soft tone of his voice. Why was Dean doing that? What was in it for him? Because, Hell, they hadn’t seen each other in almost five months, and they had never been together. And yet Dean was treating him like he was worth it.

Clearing his throat to brush away the dryness in his throat, Castiel met his eyes. “What are you doing here?” The question was a genuine one, but suddenly the younger boy felt like he had said something he shouldn’t. “I mean, not that I don’t appreciate that you’re here, but…How did you find me? And, more importantly, _why_ are you here?”

Like he had just been caught stealing a cookie, Dean chuckled in a low tone, a sound that shook all of Castiel’s body in a warm way. “I, uh…I saw you in the store earlier, and I, you know, wanted to see how you were doing, so, hm, I kinda followed you,” he explained, running a hand through the back of his neck.

“You…Followed me?” Castiel inquired, trying to make sense out of something. “Wait, why would you care how I am doing?” he was quick to add, a frown painting his features as he pulled away from Dean. That whole story wasn’t sounding good, especially because handsome guys didn’t show up to save him when he tried to take away his life like knights with their white horses or, in that specific case, leather jackets.

He didn’t get far, though, because Dean’s hands wouldn’t leave him, and oh God, why was he torturing Castiel even further? A laugh sounded from the back of Dean’s throat and he let go of the younger boy, mainly because apparently he had lost the strength of his fingers. Worried, Castiel searched for his eyes, trying to understand what was happening.

“You really didn’t know,” was what Dean decided to go with and, wait, what? “Sammy told me thousands of times that you didn’t have a clue, but I ignored him. I mean, I’m not exactly the best option out there, you know?” Oh, boy, that had taken a Hell of a turn, and where was the ground Castiel had at his feet not a whole minute ago?

Blinking the confusion away from his mind, Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Dean? Do you mind telling me just what the Hell are you talking about?” he asked, since he apparently wouldn’t get anywhere on his own, especially with how he still, more or less, wanted to reach for the medication Dean had thrown somewhere to his left.

But he didn’t have the time to even consider it, because one moment he was thinking about the bottle and the next there were lips against his own. Oh. _Oh_. Castiel didn’t know what to do with himself. He desperately wanted to kiss back, but he had been taken in such a vulnerable moment that he couldn’t make his hands reach up for Dean’s cheeks.

The green-eyed boy pulled away once he realized he wasn’t getting a reaction, and Castiel wanted to badly to pull him back that it hurt. “That’s what I meant,” Dean told him. “I’m sorry, I had to do this at least once.” His voice sounded slightly hurt, something that was probably being cause by Castiel’s widely opened eyes. Nodding to himself, Dean began to stand up. “I’m sorry again for doing that, especially now. I, uh, I should go now.”

“No!” It was automatic and, before Castiel could think this through, he was taking Dean’s shirt and pulling him back towards his lips, and not just because he was finally kissing Dean Winchester, but because it felt _right_. Between all the desperation, the yelling, the cries, kissing Dean felt _right_.

Taken aback, Dean took a while to kiss him back, but when he did Castiel couldn’t hold back a moan of relief. It felt even better, as if light was finally brightening the darkest corners of his mind. Seeking more of this feeling, Castiel parted his lips eagerly when Dean licked at them, asking for entrance. The older teen’s hands were running up and down Castiel’s back, the same gentle tone to his movements that he had used until then with Castiel, and the younger couldn’t help but feeling that Dean was doing this for him, _because_ of him.

When they pulled back, Castiel felt slightly better. There was still some part of his brain that wanted him to take the medications, but it was calmed down now. What would happen when Dean went home? What would Castiel do, once more alone with himself? He wouldn’t be able to take it, after having a taste of freedom, to be locked inside his mind again.

“How long?” Dean asked, pressing their foreheads together and lacing his fingers with Castiel’s. The younger boy anchored himself in the warmth, breathing in and out slowly. He didn’t want to answer the question, but he knew he had to. It would be embarrassing and Dean would probably run as fast as he could, but he deserved to know.

Biting the inner side of his cheek, Castiel shrugged a little, looking down. “About three years,” he told him, and waited for the inevitable sight of Dean disentangling himself from his arms. It never came, though, even if Castiel couldn’t tell why. After all, he had just admitted to have been in love with the great Dean Winchester for the same amount of time as they studied in the same school.

Out of sudden, a grin split Dean’s lips apart, making Castiel pull away a bit so that they could look at each other. Dean laughed then, a small, relieved sound that confused Castiel that much further. “I win,” the Winchester told the blue-eyed, closing the distance and sealing their lips together lightly. “Three years and a half.”

Had they really known each other for that long? Castiel supposed so, since everything concerning Dean always had felt to pass in a blur. Surprising even himself, the small laugh that had erupted from Dean then erupted from Castiel’s chest. He bathed in the sound as Dean’s thumbs swiped across his cheeks to brush away the tears.

In two years, Castiel finally had something to live for.

-~-

Three months passed by and Castiel’s life was slowly getting better. He saw Dean almost every night, when he managed to sneak away from his mother and sister, and Dean had just put his brother to sleep. Their routine was sometimes stressing, but Castiel was happy with it, because it meant that he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

They never talked about what happened in the park, mainly because every time Dean tried to Castiel almost had another breakdown. His mother still yelled at him, his sister still cried, Balthazar still demanded his attention, especially during the weekends, but things were starting to fall into place. It felt like Dean was the one thing missing from his life.

That specific night, though, he had heard a fight between his mother and father, and things seemed pretty bad. His father told him he was almost asking for a divorce, and suddenly everything Castiel had been getting better at, crumbled down on his head. All day he was eager for the night to fall, and when he finally came, getting into Dean’s car, a black Chevy Impala, felt like a relief.

“Hey, babe,” Dean greeted him with his usual grin, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his lips. Once he pulled back, though, he immediately noticed that something was wrong, even if Castiel desperately tried to hide it. He didn’t need to worry Dean with his problems. “Cas, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

His eyes were concerned, and Castiel felt terrible because he knew the burden he was on Dean. He didn’t deserve it, to be with someone as broken as Castiel. “My parents had another fight,” the boy said abortively, turning to look out the window. For a few moments he felt Dean’s hesitation, but then he started the car and put a comforting hand on Castiel’s leg.

Sighing, the younger teen realized how good it felt, to have some part of Dean touching him. He tried to grasp to that thought, because if he killed himself, he wouldn’t be able to feel it anymore, and he didn’t know if he would be able to stand not having Dean near him, even if he was already dead.

Obviously, Dean could feel that things weren’t as fine as Castiel had tried to pass them for. Even in the little time they had been together, both teenagers had learned to read each other, and they just knew when the other wasn’t feeling well. Dean’s case was normally because he was worried about Sam, or had been through something that made him remember his mother’s death when he was still a child, and Castiel helped him as best as he could, with his lips, and his hands, and his words.

Usually, they would drive around town and stop in an isolated place where they could go to the back of the Impala and have a hot make out session, but this time Castiel was pleased to see that Dean had taken him to his house. He had been there once or twice as a friend of the older Winchester teen’s – because Dean’s father didn’t approve of his son’s sexuality – and he was still to fit in there.

Sam had been a friendly host, guiding Castiel through his entire Lord of the Rings’ collection in a tour that lasted about an hour. Dean had just stood in the doorframe and watched them, and Castiel had finally felt at home. He had a feeling Sam was sleeping now, though, and the Novak boy had no idea as to why Dean had decided to take him there.

Only once they were inside Dean’s bedroom, Castiel sitting cross-legged on his bed did the green-eyed spoke again. For some reason, he had locked the door, and suddenly Castiel started feeling a rush of anticipation. “My dad went out of town this weekend and Sam’s having a sleepover at Jess’s house,” he announced, only making Castiel even more expectant.

That was it. Castiel had waited for this very moment for three years and that was finally it. During the three months that they were together, Castiel and Dean had exchanged more than a few handjobs and blowjobs, but they had never gotten _there_. The main reason was as simple as they didn’t have a place to do it, because the Impala was too narrow for their first time. And Castiel ached to have Dean inside of him.

With the same grin as when Castiel had told him that he had had his eyes on him for three years, Dean approached him on the bed, climbing on top of him and leaning down to seal their lips together. It was as gentle as their first kiss and Castiel couldn’t help sighing into it. Having Dean so close always made him calm, and the younger boy pulled him close by his neck, wanting to have as much of that feeling as he could.

Gently, Dean started unbuttoning his shirt, kissing down his chest at every bit of skin that was uncovered. Castiel ran his fingers through the green-eyed boy’s hair, encouraging him to keep on going. Once the garment was completely open, Castiel sat down and allowed it to slide from his arms, taking the chance to look into Dean’s eyes and take his shirt off as well.

He loved seeing Dean shirtless, because he had small scars covering his chest that Castiel was more than happy to attend to, licking a stripe up to his collarbone. Shivering lightly, Dean lay him back down and set to work on his nipples, licking, nipping and teasing them while successfully ripping gasps from Castiel, whose back arched from the bed more often than not.

Closing his eyes, Castiel allowed himself to be lost in the sensation of Dean’s ministrations. They weren’t hurried as he used to imagine them, but calm and slow, as if pleasuring Castiel was more important than pleasuring himself. Dean took care of him every time he could, and while they were touching each other it wasn’t different. And Castiel couldn’t begin to imagine how glad he was for that.

“Gonna take good care of you, Cas,” Dean assured him, apparently reading his thoughts as he kissed lower down his body, reaching Castiel’s pants and slowly sliding them off. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart.” Those reassurances were the best part for the younger boy. He needed them, _craved_ for them, because they were Dean’s way of telling him that living was worth it, no matter how much crap they had to go through.

Lifting his hips, Castiel tried to help Dean with taking his pants and boxers off. His cock jumped into view, already hard from all the attention. Dean pressed a kiss to the tip, making Castiel sigh contented, before reaching for his bedside table and taking what Castiel supposed to be lubrication. He didn’t open the cap yet, though, but continued his kissing trail along Castiel’s groin and thighs.

When he heard the bottle being opened, Castiel thought he would pass out before Dean could even begin to touch him properly. The Winchester’s soft kisses always managed to shatter the younger boy, and Castiel was already a moaning mess, which only increased once he felt Dean’s finger circling his hole.

Once, maybe twice, Castiel had touched himself there, but he didn’t like it when he did it. It only became interesting after the first time he and Dean had messed around with the lubrication, although even then he would much rather prefer waiting to have Dean touching him than to do it himself.

Castiel’s trail of thought was cut by that beautiful finger entering him. The stretch felt good, like if it burned away his problems even more effectively than the alcohol had once done. Dean had taught him what abusing drinks could do and, after a _very_ difficult hangover, he decided that becoming an alcoholic wasn’t one of his priorities. Especially now that he had Dean’s fingers to explore him at his will.

The pressure of the second and third fingers felt even better, making Castiel all bothered and needy, words like ‘please’ and ‘Dean’ falling constantly from his lips. He didn’t even try to contain a whine when Dean slid out of him, taking the lube again and getting rid of his pants and boxers before slicking his cock up.

Licking his lips, Castiel waited. He knew this part would hurt, but he didn’t know exactly how much. The perks of being a virgin. Dean positioned himself on his entrance and leaned down to kiss his bellybutton. “You ready, Angel?” the green-eyed asked, voice reassuring as always. How could Castiel not trust him to do what would be best for them both if he kept acting and talking like that?

Upon the younger boy’s nodding, Dean began his slow slide inside. Castiel gripped the sheets beside his body when the pain hit him full force, but he didn’t mind it one bit. For those short seconds that took Dean to bottom out, Castiel could only feel _Dean, Dean, Dean_ , and he felt like he was in his personal Heaven.

Already inside, Dean waited for Castiel grow used to being filled, and only when the blue-eyed gave him his surety did he started moving. And Castiel screamed. He was glad John and Sam weren’t home, because he was sure he would never be able to remain quiet while Dean slid in and out of him. It was too much, but, unlike when he felt pressured, he welcomed the feeling with all his heart.

“D-Dean…,” he moaned, his hips rolling to meet Dean’s thrusts. The older boy took his hand and laced their fingers, giving him something to hold onto. Dean knew how much Castiel needed those little touches, and the raven haired used his free hand to pull his lover down for a sweet kiss, one that showed him just how much he needed, not only the touches, not only the words; needed _him_.

The moment when Dean hit his prostate for the first time, Castiel felt it. It was like a switch that had been long turned off inside him, but was now slowly being turned back on, and he could feel all those dark corners in the back of his mind being lit by the rising of the sun; or, in his case, by the completion of Dean provided him.

Realizing that Dean was his personal light provider pushed Castiel over the edge, and he came with a shout of his lover’s name, having Dean following shortly after. As the older boy slid out of him and pulled him into his arms, Castiel noticed how empty he felt now that he wasn’t being filled anymore, and not for the first time he wondered what would happen to him if he ever lost Dean.

Shivering and brushing off the idea, Castiel hid his face in Dean’s chest. What came next was the last thing he was expecting. “I love you.” It was Dean’s voice, directed to him, and he knew the Winchester thought he was asleep. Even if Dean tried his best to make him feel comfortable with sharing his feelings, he wasn’t one to do so.

Therefore, the surprise that struck his features when Castiel slightly pulled back was completely understandable. The younger boy could see the dread running through his eyes, the fear that Castiel would leave him because of those words and, coincidently or not, he knew that Dean was also wondering what he would do with himself without Castiel.

Before he could even begin to voice any of those fears, Castiel threw himself on him, kissing his lips in a bruising way that Dean didn’t seem to matter one tiny bit. Thrilled that this was actually happening to him, Castiel pulled back with a small laugh, tears staining his cheeks. “I love you too,” he whispered, feeling Dean’s smile match his own as he was pulled into another passionate kiss.

Right then, Castiel finally had his minute of peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Work also posted to my tumblr: evelynlawliet.tumblr.com . c:


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